


Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?

by writworm42



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Distance, Domestic, Epilogue, F/M, Letters, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writworm42/pseuds/writworm42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a snowy night in London, Harry and his daughter, Anna, write a letter to Luna, who is serving abroad as an auror.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from Disney's Frozen, and while Anna's name is also taken, she is not actually based on the princess in the movie. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :)

_Luna,_

His pen hovered over the page, fingers trembling as he tried to think of what should go next, what should fill the white space underneath him. It was nearly six, and the sky had settled into a pregnant, purplish glow, snow glistening in the space of clouds as it drifted, soft and pillow-like, onto the ground. Anna had been outside for almost an hour now; Harry’s own cheeks were still frigid from the cold, the smell of clean sweat and frantic snow-games still lingering, prickling at his arms as he watched his daughter continue to play.

_It started to snow today. Anna had been waiting for it for weeks, since the weatherman kept promising a flurry but we only ever got rain. I was starting to think she’d given up when the first flakes came down this morning, and it’s only gotten heavier since._

_She’s getting tall, now. Six is a big year. Not too big to go out and play, though, which I suppose is great._

Turning to look outside, Harry watched the puffed, day-glo silhouette of Anna’s snowsuit darting between difts, ducking behind forts, lips going a mile a minute with songs that Harry couldn’t hear. From the pattern of her movements, the rigidity of her arms as she stopped, saluted, then started again, Harry could tell she was playing a military-game. His heart sank; he wanted to cry out, wanted to stop the procession. He _could_ have stopped it. He could have.

He didn’t.

_She asked about you today. Wants to know when you’ll be coming home. Of course I couldn’t answer._

_I wish they’d stop making tours so long._

They’d made a snowman together. It had always been their favourite activity, saved for blustery Family Nights and days when homework was decidedly optional. Lace up, run out, build up the tallest snowman in the world. Of course, height was always relative when you were still growing, and rolling bases was hard work, so they never did get beyond five feet, but did that really matter once you were inside, safe from the cold with a mug of cocoa in your hand?

_It’s going to be her birthday soon. Well, six months, but she’s counting. Funny how well we keep time when we’re young, huh?_

_She wants a new lunch-box, one of those metal pail ones with a Barbie painted on. The Wal-Mart ones you never let her get while you were_

Why was the word so hard to write? Harry didn’t mean to throw down his quill, but wasn’t surprised to hear the hollow clang of nib on wood, to feel the tears stinging at eyes that had been too dry for too long.

He wouldn’t look back. He wouldn’t look back.

Turning his head, he glanced around until he found Anna’s form, slowing down in its tracks, weighed down by ripstop nylon and one too many snow-angels. Smiling despite the situation, Harry forced himself up, away from the table, and slid open the backdoor.

“Anna!” he called, praying his voice wouldn’t come out hoarse (not that he had to worry; somehow, by some miracle, it never did), “Come in now! Daddy’ll make you a drink!”

Footsteps, chatter, a snowsuit left to thaw on the floor. Harry poured out two mugs of milk, fired up the microwave, and settled back at the kitchen table, Anna climbing up on a chair next to her.

“Is this for Mama?” Harry winced as Anna wrapped the paper in-between clumsy fingers, wrinkling the edges.

“Yeah,” the microwave beeped, and Harry turned to collect the mugs, wiping a smile back onto his face. “Do you… Do you want to add on?”

“Yeah!” Anna had already begun to scribble down the page, brow furrowed in concentration as she focused on putting _b_ the right way, shaded in the huge circle above her _i_ s.

_Mommy. This is Anna. I miss you lots but Jacob from next dor says you are gonna be a heroe like his Daddy. Do you now his Daddy? Are you keeping the childerin safe as an auror? I hop so. I am 7 soon. Pleaz come home to help me blow out the candls, Daddy is bad at it. I miss you._

Harry, came over to Anna, looked down at what she’d written, cocoa burning his fingers through the porcelain surface of their mugs. A pang rose through his chest, and he wondered how they managed to say the same things, but in such different words.

“Come on, sweetie, give it a second to cool.” the words came out like a croak, barely audible over the sound of their cups hitting the table, “Are you all done?”

“Yeah.” Anna acquiesced, hopping off her chair and moving away from the table, running to the bathroom. Harry watched her go, watched her throw open the door only to slam it shut half a second later, listened to her struggle with the lock for a minute before finally sliding it into place.

_So that’s Anna. She really needs to work on her spelling, as you can see. But I kind of think it’s funny, anyway._

_I really want to see you. I know she wants to see you, too. She plays games all day, pretends to be like you. Wants to see where you are. And who knows? Maybe someday we can visit, but not now. Not yet. I don’t think it would do any good._

What else could he say? Packing it into a waiting enveloped, he heaved a heavy sigh, pressing down on the seal. He didn’t linger before stepping out, absent-mindedly grabbing his wand and setting a protection-charm over the house as he left to deliver the letter. Nor did he write anything on the envelope; he didn’t need to. Harry knew exactly where it was going.

 

The cemetery was empty by now. Harry wasn’t one to mill about, wasn’t one to chat with the other families or to stand by the cold stones, weeping. Wasn’t one to bring the kids, the camera, the whole neighbourhood, _Look at my dead wife._

But that didn’t mean he was one to let go completely, not now. Not yet.

Kneeling, he took the letter from his pocket and placed it carefully on top of the others, scraping away the wet, heavy snow that had settled in to cover them, heart racing as he inspected the earlier documents for signs of degeneration. Miraculously, they were fine.

He was fine.

And, now that Luna was receiving his letter, so was she.

Everything would be okay.

Holding back a tear, Harry heaved himself up and began to trudge away.


End file.
